Fresh Start
by srabarae
Summary: Ginny's Hogwarts sorting from her perspective. Different version than canon.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, locations, or magical concepts. Those all belong to J.K. Rowling. I am just having some fun in her world.

Also, I am unsure as to whether I will be continuing this story or leaving it as a oneshot. Review and let me know what you think!

_Fresh Start_

"_It's ok sweetie, Weasley's have always been in Gryffindor. You know where you'll be sorted."_ Her mother's voice reverberated through her mind as she slowly opened her eyes and looked around the room. _"Deep breaths Gin"_ she instructed herself as she breathed in and counted to ten.

Ginny Weasley had known that the first event of the night would be the sorting of the first years. She had caught that much from listening to her older brothers talking about school. The knots in her stomach were get stronger the closer Professor McGonagall got to her name on the list of first years, and seeing as how she was one of the last names on the list, her stomach had been getting worked up for quite a while.

"Robert Waxell," called out the Professor, and a young boy who had been standing amongst the diminishing group started, and moved towards the stool at the front of the hall. He sat down in front of all the students, and had a large, worn out hat placed upon his head. There was a slight murmur around the hall as students whispered amongst themselves, but most of the attention was centered on the boy wearing the hat.

"Hufflepuff," yelled out an aged voice, and one of the tables erupted into loud applause. The hat was removed from the boy's head before he was ushered to the applauding table. Ginny's stomach did another flip in response to his sorting.

"Ginevra Weasley," stated Professor McGonagall and looked expectantly towards the small group of children left waiting to be sorted. Ginny took a deep breath, and a step forward. Placing one foot in front of the other, she cautiously made her way over to the stool, and the Sorting Hat.

"YEAH GINNY," was heard coming from the second table on the left, followed by some whistling and chuckles. Ginny could feel her face turn bright red when one of her brothers yelled out to her. She hastily sat down on the stool, and a slightly smiling Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat upon Ginny's head.

"_Very interesting... yes quite so… I am having more and more of these complicated minds pass under me every year…" _Ginny could hear the aged voice murmuring to itself inside her head, along with her voice counting to ten as she continued to breathe deeply. _"Quite imaginative and bold, but intelligent and cunning as well… oh yes, hmm… quite the thirst to stand apart from her siblings as well… you feel lost in their shadows don't you?"_ the voice addressed her. Ginny was startled out of her counting. She was not expecting to be addressed directly. "I, uh… sometimes?" was her weak response. Ginny didn't think that any of the other students had taken quite this long to be sorted. _"Yes, well, then maybe it's time for a fresh start… hmm, indeed…nice bat-boogey hex by the way..."_

"Slytherin," cried the aged voice to the Great Hall. All murmuring ceased, as Ginny stilled on the stool. She could hear someone cough at the back of the room. Every pair of eyes in the room were focused on her. Ginny sought out her brothers at the second table, and took in their shocked faces. After a few seconds of eye contact, the eldest brother attending Hogwarts looked down at his plate with a frown, and one by one the rest of her brothers followed suit.

Slowly, Ginny stood up, and passed the hat back to Professor McGonagall who looked on with sadness in her eyes. Ginny took a deep breath, and stood up straight before walking to her designated table. Her housemates all slide down the bench as she sat on the end, as though she were contaminated. She held her head high though and after a few seconds of blatant stares Professor McGonagall call out "Simon York" and the murmur continued once more.


End file.
